


Bled Out

by queenseamoose



Series: Saint, Sinner, Savior [7]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenseamoose/pseuds/queenseamoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: You know, it’s okay to cry<br/>Aisha is dead, Johnny is in critical condition, and Abby is not taking it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bled Out

“You know,” Carlos remarked, shuffling several paces toward her, “it’s okay to cry.” She didn’t look up from where she sat crouched on the curb, face buried in her hands.

“And walk back in there with swollen eyes and snot dripping everywhere and have everyone see how pathetic their fearless leader really is?” she snorted. “No thank you.” Her voice was ragged, and he remembered the conversation going on inside, hearing how she’d screamed herself hoarse as she’d taken out the Ronin.

He sighed as he sank down beside her. The night air was thick and muggy, trapping the remains of the day’s heat, but she was shivering as though it were the dead of winter. “You gotta let it out sometime, though.”

“Oh, I’ll let it out all right,” she spat, suddenly jerking upright. “Right after I feed Jyunichi his own eyeballs, that sick bastard, I’ll kill him, I’ll—” Her voice broke mid-sentence, and as she dropped her face back into her hands, he heard her choke back a sob.

He hated seeing her like this. Even rage would be preferable: shouting, cursing, smashing bottles and sparking with fury. But to watch her slowly collapsing under the burden of silent grief…

Tentatively, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, and was surprised when her hand reached up to close around his.

“I’m sorry.” When she lifted her head, her eyes were red and glassy with unshed tears. Her phone was clutched in her other hand, he noted, so tightly her knuckles were white and shaking. “I got a call a couple minutes ago,” she continued, her voice unsteady. “I have to go identify her—her body.” She broke off into a small, uneasy laugh. “God, it feels so wrong saying that.” Her voice quivered, and in the dim glow of the streetlights, he saw tears rolling down her cheeks.

“She was my first friend, you know,” she muttered. “Back when I first joined the Saints and didn’t know anybody. Eesh was the only one who bothered to talk to me.” She gave a bitter laugh. “We met the first time she died, ironically enough,” she spat, her grip on his hand tightening as her entire body tensed. “Only that time, we drove away laughing ourselves sick with an explosion in the rearview mirror And now…”

She shook her head, gaze frozen on the cracked pavement of the parking lot. “Now one of my best friends is dead, and the other…” Her voice wobbled, and her hand limply fell away from his as her breathing quickened.

He desperately wished he could think of something to say, but everything that came to mind fell short. _She’s in a better place now. She would want you to be strong. She lived a good life._ Everything people had tried to say to him after his brother’s death, seemingly well-intentioned but coming off as a slap in the face. Aisha had died violently, and there were no words that could assuage the images she was clearly reliving in gory detail. And as for Gat…well, Gat was the heart and soul of the Saints, and if he didn’t pull through…

But he couldn’t bring himself to think about that now. He had a grieving, near-catatonic girlfriend beside him, and somehow, he got the feeling ‘ _Johnny’s tough, of course he’ll be okay_ ’ wasn’t going to cut it. Instead, he remained silent, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and breathing a sigh of relief when she turned her face into his chest.

But she pulled away all too quickly, dashing away the remains of her tears in streaks of mascara. “I have to go,” she announced, unsteadily rising to her feet. “I have to get to the morgue, then I’m going back to the hospital.”

“This late?” he asked, quickly standing as well. “Visiting hours don’t start for another—”

“Friend of a friend works the night shift,” she interrupted “He’ll let me in.”  She offered a shaky, half-hearted smile, and he frowned.

“You gotta sleep sometime, Abs.”

“I know,” she sighed, raking her fingers through her hair. “I know. I just…gotta get this done first.” She was staring off into space again, eyes vacant, and he edged closer.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he offered, and her attention shifted back to him.

“Yes.” There was a note of surprise in her tone, as though she hadn’t even considered it. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“I can drive if you want,” he suggested, and breathed a prayer of thanks when she handed over her keys and stepped toward the passenger-side door of her car without protest. As much as he hated the thought of her completing her grim errands on her own, he relished the idea of ending up in a hospital bed alongside Gat even less.

He slid into the driver’s seat, reaching over and buckling her seatbelt when she left it ignored, her eyes closed and head propped against the glass of the window. “To the morgue, and then the hospital,” he repeated, turning the key in the ignition, “and then I’m taking you home.” He added the last bit firmly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction. She simply nodded, her face blank once more, lit by the glow of her phone screen.

“All right,” she agreed, straightening in her seat. He was puzzled by her sudden compliance, until she spoke again. “Akuji’s scheduled to fly in two days from now. And when he arrives,” she continued, that familiar edge back in her tone, “I’m going to tear him to pieces.” She spat the words out in a spurt of venom, and when he glance back over, the fire was back in her eyes and her face was twisted into a feral snarl. Anything was better than silence, he reminded himself, but something about her expression filled him with unease.

But as they were walking into the morgue, he was startled to feel her hand suddenly curl around his once again. “Thank you, Carlos,” she whispered, her face blanched ghostly pale in the stark fluorescent lights.

Words couldn’t help; they would never be enough. But as he gripped her hand in return, he thought he saw her stand just a little taller.


End file.
